The Imperialist eBook

“You might smarten yourself with that change,
Elmore,” she addressed him, ignoring his companion.
“There’s folks coming back for it.
Two-dollar bill, wa’n’t it? Fifty
cents—­seventy-five—­dollar’n
a half. That’s a Yankee dime, an’
you kin march straight back with it. They don’t
pass but for nine cents, as you’re old enough
to know. Keep twenty-five cents for your dinner—­you’ll
get most for the money at the Barker House—­an’
bring me back another quarter. Better go an’
get your victuals now—­it’s gone twelve—­while
they’re hot.”

Elmore took his instructions without visible demur;
and then, as Lorne had not seen fit to detach himself,
performed the ceremony of introduction. As he
performed it he drew one foot back and bowed himself,
which seemed obscurely to facilitate it. The
suspicion faded out of Mrs Crow’s tired old
sharp eyes under the formula, and she said she was
pleased to make our friend’s acquaintance.

“Mr Murchison’s changed some since the
old days at the Collegiate,” Elmore explained,
“but he ain’t any different under his
coat. He’s practisin’ the law.”

“Well, yes, he’s back on the farm, an’
when he’s wore out his Winnipeg clothes and
his big ideas, we’re lookin’ to make him
some use.” Mrs Crow’s intention, though
barbed, was humorous, and her son grinned broadly.

“There’s more money in the law,”
he remarked “once you get a start. Here’s
Mr Murchison goin’ to run the Ormiston case;
his old man’s down sick, an’ I guess it
depends on Lorne now whether Ormiston gets off or
goes to penitentiary.”

Mrs Crow’s face tied itself up into criticism
as she looked our young man up and down. “Depends
upon you, does it?” she commented. “Well,
all I’ve got to say is it’s a mighty young
dependence. Coming on next week, ain’t
it? You won’t be much older by then.
Yes’m,” she turned to business, “I
don’t say but what it’s high for rhubarb,
but there ain’t another bunch in the market,
and won’t be for a week yet.”

Under cover of this discussion Lorne bade the Crows
good morning, retreating in the rear of the lady who
found the rhubarb high. Mrs Crow’s drop
of acid combined with his saving sense of the humour
of it to adjust all his courage and his confidence,
and with a braver face than ever he involuntarily
hastened his steps to keep pace with his happy chance.